


tennis green

by idolrapper



Category: LOONA (Korea Band)
Genre: (JIWOO IS DUMB & HORNY), Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Feels, Babysitting, Childhood Friends, Emotional Constipation, F/F, Mild Sexual Content, Mutual Pining, Single Parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-11-28 09:41:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20964434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idolrapper/pseuds/idolrapper
Summary: Jiwoo watches Sooyoung’s ass in her yoga pants as she power walks into formation with the other moms and sighs. And sighs. And keeps sighing until Hyejoo tugs on her hair with a disgruntled, “Jiwoo.” (or: Jiwoo moves back home and apparently Sooyoung having a kid made her ten times hotter. The problem is, Sooyoung still thinksshe’sa kid.)





	tennis green

**Author's Note:**

> god i had no idea how to coherently tag this given the sheer amount of tropes in this fic *___* this came about bc i wanted fic of chuu trying to seduce yves but yves being completely oblivious bc she thinks chuu doesn’t even know what sex is BUT I ACCIDENTALLY WROTE FEELINGS... the fact that this was meant to be like 3k at most i have to laugh... (also #topchuurights)
> 
> notes: the timeline is a little confusing (the slowest of slow burns...) but 1) they meet when jiwoo is 14 and sooyoung is 16 in 2013 2) sooyoung's daughter hyejoo is born in 2021 3) the most current events of the fic are set in spring, 2027 (jiwoo is 27, sooyoung is 29 and hyejoo is 5)!

Jiwoo huffs at a strand of hair that falls into her eyes as she drives her fingers into herself. She squeezes her eyes shut, thighs clamping around her wrist and a series of images float through her mind: _long black hair waterfalling over dainty collarbones, lips stained wine red, NutriBullet, white picket fence, yellow minivan… Heejin’s beautifully bitchy smile as she says, “So, that’s what you get off on, huh? What’s next? Hiding Costco catalogues in your sex drawer?”_

“It’s not real, it’s not real,” Jiwoo mutters to herself, turning over onto her stomach and burying her face into her pillow. She groans at the way her palm grinds right up against her clit and it’s all she can do not to start humping her hand like a fucking _animal_. “She can’t kinkshame you from inside your brain, Jiwoo. She has no reach!”

And as though Heejin somehow hears Jiwoo doubting her power to judge every life decision Jiwoo’s ever made, her phone dings from her bedside table. Jiwoo lifts her face, cringing at how red and sticky it feels, bangs plastered against her forehead. 

**from: heejina george**  
**to: chuu *3***  
yo stop jerking off and come out for drinks tonite!!! 

Jiwoo rolls her eyes at that big fat _baseless_ assumption, and continues to roll her hips back onto her fingers, dropping her phone so she can rub over a nipple with her other hand, a moan caught in her throat. Her phone dings again, just as she’s on the verge of orgasm (her fifth in half an hour, not that anyone’s counting, ESPECIALLY NOT HEEJIN!). 

**from: Sooyoung Ha**  
**to: chuu *3***  
Hey Jiwoo, I know this is last minute, but do you think you could watch over Hyejoo for a couple hours tonight? I have a date at 7 hehe x

“_Fuck_,” Jiwoo screams, smashing her face into her pillow again. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. 

She still makes herself come though, because if there’s anything Jiwoo isn’t, it’s a quitter. What the fuck, she is a jealous, spiteful, mom-loving _non_-quitter. 

Well, most of the time.

A COMPREHENSIVE TIMELINE OF JIWOO KIM’S RELATIONSHIP WITH SOOYOUNG HA (2013 - PRESENT):

#1

They first meet when Jiwoo is fourteen and Sooyoung’s family move from Korea to the house across from them in suburban America. Jiwoo’s parents have them over for dinner that first night, minus their daughter whom Jiwoo’s mom had promised Jiwoo she’d be best friends with (“She’s close to your age! Finally a sensible Korean friend for our Jiwoo!”) because she’s still recovering from airsickness (and Jiwoo feels very vindicated about the fact that she really doesn’t want to meet this Busan hick who’d probably become obsessed with her like every other family friend she has because Jiwoo Kim is just _too friendly_). 

Then the following day, they all pile into the Kim family Range Rover, Jiwoo squished in the back, and drive out to the Grand Canyon, where Jiwoo finally has a chance to see Sooyoung properly. But the problem is, Sooyoung speaks perfect English and leans against the handrail, hand shielding her eyes against the sun and hair whipping all around her, the Earth unfolding for miles underneath her feet, and all Jiwoo can think is _wow. Imagine how she’d look in the moonlight._

(“I can’t believe you assigned Sooyoung moon lesbian the first day you met,” Heejin had gleefully said, when Jiwoo told her this story. “Freaking godspeed, pubescent Jiwoo.”)

And then Jiwoo vows to never say a word to Sooyoung’s face. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, right?

#2

High school is a blur. Jiwoo sticks to her band geeks and Sooyoung to the tennis kids who are the only club in their school to actually get anywhere, the mahogany cabinet in the front office filled with their trophies—so basically Sooyoung’s real life unattainability increases to match how unattainable Jiwoo personally thought she was. Which was A Lot.

But there is a moment, around Christmas of 2015, when Sooyoung’s already gotten early admission into Stanford, just when Jiwoo thought she might peak in high school (and she was definitely lying to herself. Sooyoung hasn’t peaked a day in her life. She’s always painfully been a cut above the rest of them.) Jiwoo is living her cutest nightmare: being puppy piled by a litter of small children all screaming, “You got games on your phone, noona?” at once. She tickles her littlest cousin, laughing loudly, “No, no, I promise I don’t, let me free!”

Sooyoung comes in and gracefully plucks one of them off Jiwoo and places her own phone in his hand. “I’ve only got Subway Surfers. You’re allowed ten minutes each. I’ll be watching.”

“Thanks,” Jiwoo says, as Sooyoung holds out a hand to help her to her feet. She pouts, voice raising a little, “I thought I was going to die. Death by child stampede.” Sooyoung doesn’t say anything so Jiwoo nervously continues, “Um, I haven’t had a chance to congratulate you on Stanford yet. So, uh, congrats! It’s gonna be kinda weird not having you around? I mean I know we don’t talk much, and that’s completely on me, don’t worry, you’re perfect, but—”

Sooyoung cuts her off, “Jiwoo. Do you wanna get out of here?”

“Oh? Oh. Sure! Absolutely!”

Sooyoung shushes her, but the amused twitch of her mouth betrays her. She grabs Jiwoo’s wrist and leads her through the house, circumventing the lounge room where both of their parents are entertaining guests. When they’re halfway down the street, an icy stillness to the air, Sooyoung shows her the bottle of peach soju she’d hidden inside her coat. “Just for me,” Sooyoung teases, “No offence but I don’t want to take care of a drunk sixteen-year-old. You look like a lightweight. Have you ever had alcohol before?”

And it must be the shock of Sooyoung touching her, her skin cold as marble, or the fact that this is the most Sooyoung’s ever spoken to her since _Jiwoo_ decided not to speak to her, but Jiwoo blurts out, “Me? No, never! I’ve vowed to never touch the stuff. For my liver and all.”

Sooyoung gives her a solemn nod. “Wow, I respect that. You’re so good.”

Jiwoo just squeaks a little in the back of her throat. Only last night had she been downing tequila shots in Jungeun Kim’s basement and performing a drunken rendition of Taylor Swift’s discography on her ukelele. She can still feel it in her head now. She doesn’t tell Sooyoung any of this.

Sooyoung takes them to the park a block away, heading straight for the swing set and settling down to take a swig of her soju. Jiwoo sits on the swing next to her, trying not to stare longingly at the green bottle. _Think about your liver, Jiwoo Kim_, she tells herself.

“Any reason you wanted to come out here?” Jiwoo finally says. What she really means to say is _any reason you asked_ me _to come with you?_

Sooyoung doesn’t answer for a while. The sky becomes grey before it turns dark, like someone’s pulling the colour out of it with rope. And then, out of nowhere, she asks, “Do you hate being asked about your future, or is that just me?” She doesn’t wait for Jiwoo’s reply. “It’s just like—how am I meant to know? Sure, I can have a plan, but who’s to say that plan will happen. And honestly, that plan is no one’s business. It’s like I have to tell everyone I know for _their_ sake, so _they’re_ reassured, even when what I do doesn’t affect them at all. I could drop out of Stanford and become a psychic and adopt twenty cats, and all our _aunties_ and _uncles_ would think it juicy gossip. But hey, at least I’d be able to tell them the future.”

Jiwoo just stares dumbly at Sooyoung as she clears her throat from all those _words_ and gulps down another mouthful of drink. “I—I get that? Yeah, I do. Like every time I get asked about what I want to do in the future all I want to do is scream ‘NOOOOOOOOO!’ and run away.” She pulls a face, and then in a conspiratorial whisper, confesses, “Sometimes I do.”

Sooyoung laughs weakly. “Okay, I really want to ask you what you wanna do, but that would be hypocritical, wouldn’t it?” She pauses. “Would it be hypocritical if I asked you about your dreams?”

“Mmm, I want to play music,” Jiwoo tells her, “And I want to have a big family. But as for a plan? No clue.”

“Me too,” Sooyoung says, “Well, not the music part. I want to have a family too.”

“Ten kids minimum,” Jiwoo jokes.

Sooyoung smiles. “Exactly.” 

Eventually, the cold begins to sink into Jiwoo’s bones, so she starts swinging to get her blood pumping, using all her strength until her toes graze the branches of the magnolia tree above them. “C’mon, unnie, it’s fun!” she yells, when she turns back to see Sooyoung staring at her incredulously. “Do you wanna have to go back inside to warm up?”

“Fine,” Sooyoung acquiesces, laughing as she sets her drink down and starts kicking her legs up, plaid skirt fluttering around her stockinged thighs in a way that makes Jiwoo want to touch so bad.

But she blinks away the thought of sliding her hand up Sooyoung’s skirt and looks back at the magnolia tree, its skeleton shadowed by the moon, and continues swinging towards it. 

Sooyoung can’t get as high as Jiwoo, though she tries, drunkenly screaming at Jiwoo to let her catch up and soon enough she cracks up so hard she topples out of the swing. “Oh my god, _Sooyoung_, are you okay?” Jiwoo lands cleanly on her feet and kneels down next to Sooyoung, whose laughter has subsided into soft hiccuping. Her hands are next to her head, the same way a baby sleeps, and her hair’s pooled out across the bark mulch, and she’s pink with cold but shimmering under the moonlight (and Jiwoo could’ve gone on and on because she was right, somewhat: Sooyoung wasn’t a moon lesbian. She _was_ the moon.)

And just as she’s about to blurt out something Shakesperian about how pretty Sooyoung looks, Sooyoung’s eyes slowly drop to Jiwoo’s like Jiwoo’s did to hers and she says, “Have you ever kissed anyone, Jiwoo?”

Jiwoo, for some godforsaken reason*, lies again, “Not yet.” (*Reasons include: maybe she doesn’t want Sooyoung to know that she isn’t the innocent angel everyone in her family circle believes she is, a _good girl_ who definitely did not have her tequila-soaked tongue down Jungeun Kim’s throat last night, maybe Sooyoung will offer to show her how to kiss, like in the movies, maybe—)

Sooyoung’s gaze returns to the sky, looking wistful, but her words carrying the same cynicism they had earlier. “Don’t do it, Jiwoo. It’s sloppy and awkward, and kissing leads to sex, and sex is even harder to get right. It just isn’t worth it. Listen, you’re actually my favourite dongsaeng, and I’d literally die for you, okay?” She turns to Jiwoo again, holding her hand up to Jiwoo’s face and slurring, “Promise me you won’t ever do anything until you find the right person. You’re so pure, I don’t ever want to see you get hurt.”

“Who’s the right person?” Jiwoo whispers.

“You’ll know,” Sooyoung tells her, “Now promise me you won’t kiss anyone until you’re at least 30. Pinkie promise, Jiwoo!”

Jiwoo can’t even hide her gulp as she holds out her pinkie.

#3

The third part is that life goes on, in that mundane, fleeting way it always does. 

Sooyoung graduates and goes off to Stanford, and later Jiwoo graduates, drops out of UCLA after a year, and moves to Paris to play the underground scene with the band she’d picked up along the way. 

And then the year is 2020, and Jiwoo hasn’t been back home in forever, only stopping by for a few days at a time, and she has to find out from her mom that Sooyoung’s getting married to a man she met in law school. After her mom hangs up, Jiwoo crawls into bed and opens up her laptop, the yellow silhouette of the Eiffel Tower framed by her crumbling window, and reactivates her Facebook to stalk Sooyoung and her infuriatingly perfect fiancé with his cheekbones and swoopy hair and an album dedicated entirely to photos of his adorable dog. _Fuck_. 

Jiwoo deletes Facebook again, replies to the Tinder hookup from last week she’s been avoiding (_u up? ;)_), and messages her mom to tell her to RSVP to the wedding on her behalf, if she gets an invitation (she’s almost hoping she won’t, but honestly, that’d hurt even more). 

_Aw sweetie, I know Sooyoung will love to have you there_, is the reply Jiwoo wakes up to the next morning, detangling herself from the girl in her sheets, body aching in the most bittersweet way, _She asks about you all the time._

Nothing was ever going to happen between them. It was a small, stupid baby gay crush and Sooyoung had no fucking clue. What could’ve happened? Jiwoo resigned herself to that years ago, back when Sooyoung left for college and brought home a different boyfriend every Thanksgiving, each one more perfect than the last, like she was building them in a lab just to impress their families. They’d turn to Jiwoo and smile and say, “When will you settle down like our Sooyoung?”

Jiwoo had excuses for everything: losing contact with Sooyoung? People drift apart with time and distance constantly. Her revolving door of hookups? Commitment just isn’t a big part of her personality. 

But Sooyoung walking down the aisle, her dress like sea foam rolling behind her, sunlight turning her skin pink? It’s like worrying all day over whether you left the stove on at home, worrying and worrying and reassuring yourself it’s _fine_, but then you come home and it’s up in flames. 

All it was, was good, old fashioned self-preservation.

#4

Sooyoung has her baby on the cusp of winter, under a full moon. She has the darkest, thickest hair Jiwoo’s ever seen on a kid, and Sooyoung names her Hyejoo, after her grandmother. 

(Jiwoo visits that Christmas, and names her _little wolf_, “Because she’s just so hairy!” As she held Hyejoo for the first time, Sooyoung and her husband were off to the side wearing these creepy twin grins at Jiwoo, and it was sort of her Jacob from Twilight moment. Not the weird imprinting thing, but the realisation that she had it in herself to shove aside all her Sooyoung angst for the sake of this tiny, important human being. She didn’t think she did until she laid eyes on Hyejoo.)

Which is how Jiwoo, over five years later, gets sucked into being Hyejoo’s babysitter since the teenage girl Sooyoung hired before had apparently failed all her subjects because she didn’t believe in school, fuck da system et cetera et cetera, and well, that system threw her into remedial classes until the end of time. 

Jiwoo wasn’t planning on moving back home but her band unexpectedly broke up when Mark Lee went and eloped with his boyfriend halfway through their Europe tour, and Jiwoo couldn’t exactly blame him. She too would probably have chosen whirlwind romance over rough, loveless fingerfucking in the dressing room of the dingiest Berlin club their manager could book them, if she could. Her kingdom for the real fucking deal, she supposes. And now, living in her old bedroom in her parents’ house, babysitting the kid of the woman she’s hopelessly attracted to because she needs the cash, Jiwoo doesn’t even have her kingdom anymore.

Only her own, pathetic, guitar-calloused fingers. 

“Have you ever noticed how short my fingers are?” Jiwoo bemoans, head knocking against the back of the couch, the mocktail Heejin made her splashing over her front. She doesn’t even bother patting it dry. “They’re so fucking stubby. God, why was I made to look so _cute?_”

“Jeez, sound less self-deprecating, why don’t you?” Heejin says. She’s a little tipsy, head resting on Jiwoo’s lap and her feet dangling off the end of Sooyoung’s velvet chaise, in Sooyoung’s _fancy_ living room, no Hyejoos, and probably no Jiwoos, allowed whatsoever. But whatever. Jiwoo deserved to treat herself (even if Sooyoung is paying her an exorbitant amount of money to bicker with her daughter over how many times she’s allowed to rewatch _The Corpse Bride_ before bed). Heejin’s girlfriend Hyunjin had dropped her off after they left the bar to keep Jiwoo company as she waited for Sooyoung to return from her date. 

“It isn’t a good thing!” Jiwoo argues, downing the rest of her mocktail before she ends up spilling it all over Heejin’s head. “How am I meant to be with Sooyoung if she can’t even see me as a sexual being for starters? She covers both mine and Hyejoo’s eyes when there’s kissing on TV and she never offers me wine whenever she drinks it and she thinks I played the violin in the Orchestre de Paris because that’s what my mom told everyone we know when I first moved! I don’t even play the violin! I’ll give Sooyoung a heart attack if she knows what I’m really like!”

“Hm, maybe you could still be in a relationship? But it’ll be like, lesbian bed death except it was never actually alive in the first place,” Heejin offers.

“I hate you so much,” says Jiwoo. 

“I’m just saying, there’s nothing to say she doesn’t see you as a _romantic_ being,” Heejin explains, “In fact, there is plenty of evidence in favour of it. She just thinks you’re the rose petals and candles type. She’s courting you, and it’s about time you start courting her back, you freak.” She rolls off Jiwoo’s lap and then picks herself up to wander off to the kitchen for more orange juice.

“No way,” Jiwoo says loudly at Heejin’s retreating back, “She’s been _married_. She’s a _mom_. She’s an associate of our suburb’s biggest law firm. Why would she wanna slum it with me when she could have literally anyone she wants? Literally anyone who’d fit into this picture perfect life better than me, who, might I remind you, is not of the male gender. She’s _straight_, to top it all off.” 

“Hey, you might want to rethink that last part,” Heejin calls out from the kitchen. 

“What?”

“Sooyoung just got out of a car. With a woman. Who is walking her to the door. Oh my god, she just kissed her on the cheek. Sooyoung’s saying goodbye. Oof, that’s a _polite_ smile. You know the one. We all do it.”

“You know she’s going to see you in the window right now?” Jiwoo says, trying to hide the panic in her voice as she swings off the chaise and starts hurriedly picking up an open packet of Doritos and their mocktail glasses. She turns back, eyeing the depression her body made in the velvet. She leans down to smooth it over and hears the key turn in the front door. 

Heejin pops into the room, plucking the Doritos out of Jiwoo’s hand. “Alright, this has been fun but I should go. Mildly terrified of Sooyoung from the last time she caught you skiving off babysitting duty with me. Is the back door unlocked? No? Cool.” 

“Jiwoo, I’m home!”

“BYEEEEE,” Heejin loudly whispers, “Just a reminder that I’m going home to my beautiful girlfriend whom I have hot, mildly vanilla sex with every single day. You could have what I have. Anything’s possible now.” She backs out of the door, arcing her hand through the air like she’s painting a rainbow. And that’s probably what she was going for. Oh _god_. Sooyoung came home with a _girl_. No, Heejin said a woman. What does that mean? Like, a Woman? Is Jiwoo a Woman? 

“Was that Heejin sneaking out of my back door just now?” Sooyoung says, as she walks into the living room, shrugging her jacket off. 

“Uh no?” Jiwoo says, and she can’t help but grin weakly at the sight of Sooyoung, “Probably a burglar.”

“Hm, that should worry me more, but whatever,” Sooyoung says, dropping down onto the chaise. She gestures to Heejin’s mocktail in Jiwoo’s hand. “Can I have the rest of that?” And then she stretches up to take it from Jiwoo, and skulls it down. “Thanks. Wait, is this even alcoholic?”

Jiwoo raises an eyebrow. “What were you expecting?”

“Right. Your liver.”

Jiwoo snorts, “More like I’m on the job. Do you want me to be drinking while I play dress-up with Hyejoo?”

“It’d make it more fun, honestly,” Sooyoung says, patting the seat next to her. Jiwoo sits, a little more delicately than Sooyoung—this is her fancy living room after all, and the chaise is totally not still warm from Jiwoo and Heejin’s combined body heat. “There are only so many times you can cake your eyes with black eyeshadow before it permanently becomes a part of your face. Look at my eyelids, Jiwoo, I don’t need to do anything to them anymore. They’re always smoky.”

“I still can’t believe Hyejoo’s going through her emo phase at age five,” Jiwoo laughs, dragging her gaze away from Sooyoung’s face after a perfunctory glance at her very smoky eyelids. She has a staring quota with Sooyoung: you don’t need to go to an art gallery everyday to know that the Monet landscape you saw two years ago is still beautiful, right?

“Makes you wonder what she’ll go through at age fifteen, hey?” Sooyoung says, placing the empty glass on the coffee table before kicking her legs up and resting her head on Jiwoo’s shoulder. “Not to make this dark, but I do think the divorce had something to do with it. A coping method, or something.” Sooyoung glances up, orange juice breath brushing over Jiwoo’s neck. “_Is_ it normal?”

Sooyoung’s hand is lying limp on Jiwoo’s thigh, and Jiwoo interlocks their fingers, lifting them up and then dropping them down again. She wasn’t around for Sooyoung’s divorce around a year ago, but by the time she got back, Sooyoung was still picking up the pieces, pasting them back together until she finally found a configuration that worked for her (cutting her working hours down to three days, joining the PTA at Hyejoo’s kindergarten so she could be more involved in her school life, hiring Jiwoo as her babysitter so she could get out of the house and do things for herself from time to time). 

“She isn’t actually emo, you know,” Jiwoo reassures her, “She’s the happiest kid I’ve ever met. She just likes the colour black and her favourite animal is a zombie, so what? She was born on Friday the 13th, two weeks after Halloween, do you think her parents breaking up had anything to do with that? There were bigger forces at play here, sweetie.”

Sooyoung sniffles a little, a laugh more than anything. “You always know what to say, Jiwoo. I wish you’d been around then.”

Jiwoo takes a while to respond, mostly on account of her throat closing up and heart hammering wildly against her chest at the thought of Sooyoung _wishing_ for her. Needing her. She lets out a diluted laugh, and says, “Hm, I’ll have to pass. I got to miss all the messy bits.” She really, really doesn’t mean that—the more time she spends with Sooyoung (and Hyejoo) the more she feels this odd guilt, like maybe she shouldn’t have stayed away so long, that she should’ve been there for them. _I wish you’d been around then._

“Seems like there was a compliment in there somewhere,” Sooyoung jokes, nudging her bony elbow into Jiwoo’s side. “But no, in a way, you’re right—I’m glad you didn’t see me then. I was a complete wreck, literally, I think I showered like _once_ over the holidays. Santa did not wanna step foot in this pigsty last year. Which was fine because Hyejoo kept reassuring me that he isn’t real.” Jiwoo laughs at that. Of course she did. “Might’ve changed how you see me, huh?”

“And how do I see you?”

“As a woman who can actually get through one date without wanting to go home the whole time,” Sooyoung says, her glass moaning hollowly as she runs a fingertip along the edge of it. “Someone who has it all together. At least, that’s how I think you see me. Right?”

Jiwoo shakes her head, placing her other hand on top of Sooyoung’s. The last tendrils of noise from the glass harp peter out—much like Jiwoo’s resolve as she realises how close their faces are, Sooyoung’s gaze dark and attentive. “I don’t need you to be perfect, unnie,” Jiwoo tells her, “I’m your friend! We’re adults now, you can be vulnerable with me, alright?”

Sooyoung gets this goofy little smile on her face, the same kind Hyejoo wears whenever she has a secret she wants to share with Jiwoo. She’s definitely a little drunk. “Does that mean I can tell you about how weird my date was?”

Jiwoo pats Sooyoung’s head. “As long as you tell me about when you started going out with girls, because holy shit, unnie! You’re so much more interesting now!”

It’s a typical 7AM in the Ha household: Sooyoung is blending up this monstrous green concoction in her NutriBullet, insisting that Jiwoo could do with more kale in her diet; Jiwoo is slumped over the counter, the Airpods Sooyoung had gifted her for Christmas last year jammed into her ears and blasting some rock song to help wake her up because Sooyoung also insists on keeping the house caffeine-free (“Even hot chocolate has caffeine in it, unnie! How are you going to take that away from Hyejoo! And me!”); Sooyoung’s neighbour Haseul is scrambling eggs on the stove, giving Jiwoo a pitying look as she slides a fresh plate towards her and whispers, “You can use my Keurig when we’re gone if you want?”; and Hyejoo’s in the lounge, curled up in a laundry basket with her black blankie and a piece of toast she’s been chewing on for over thirty minutes as she watches a Barbie movie.

“You’re always welcome to join us on our walk, Jiwoo,” Sooyoung says to her as she hands her a glass of smoothie. 

Jiwoo, busy shovelling her breakfast down, grabs the glass and takes a large, unwilling gulp from it, hoping the scrambled eggs already in her mouth will mask the taste. 

Sooyoung’s nose crinkles. “Hyejoo could do with some sunshine. I swear, ever since they put all those Barbie movies on Netflix—”

Though she’s a lot more awake now, Jiwoo’s smile still strains a little at the thought of leaving the house this early in the morning. Leaving her bed was already difficult enough, and Sooyoung’s couch looks hella inviting right now—as does _The Princess and the Pauper_. “While I’d love to hang out with you and your hot mom squad, I think I might just take Hyejoo out to the park later,” Jiwoo says. 

Sooyoung pouts, a little spot of green on her top lip that Jiwoo wants to lick away even if that means more of that freaking smoothie. She’d drink it out of Sooyoung’s mouth if she had to. Wait, pause, Sooyoung is speaking. “Aw, I wish I could come with you. The flowers are lovely this time of year,” she says wistfully.

“Next time,” Jiwoo tells her. The way Sooyoung is looking at her is so—the doorbell rings, and Sooyoung’s head snaps in the direction of the noise. 

(It was wistful, too. That’s how Sooyoung was looking at her, Jiwoo realises, much, much later.) 

“Oh. Oh, that’s the girls,” Sooyoung says, pulling a face like she was silly for being startled by the interruption. Jiwoo just busies herself with the last scrapes of egg on her plate. “Ready, Haseul?”

Haseul comes over from the living room, Hyejoo sitting on her hip, and grabs her water bottle off the counter and also somehow pulls her hair up into a ponytail. What the fuck? How many hands does she have and how does Jiwoo get in on that? 

“Do you mind?” Haseul asks Jiwoo sweetly, before she sets Hyejoo down on her lap without even waiting for Jiwoo’s answer and wanders out of the kitchen to follow Sooyoung.

“Aren’t you too old to be carried around everywhere?” Jiwoo says to Hyejoo, who’s looking pretty unhappy over being stuck with Jiwoo. Damn, two seconds in the presence of Haseul and this kid forgets that she called Jiwoo her favourite person in the whole wide world just yesterday. 

“Nope,” Hyejoo says, “I’m immortal.”

Jiwoo, very accustomed to Hyejoo’s eerie remarks, just replies, “That’s just another word for ancient as heck,” and laughs at the way Hyejoo’s eyes widen. “Now c’mon, little wolf, let's say bye to your mom.”

Sooyoung’s already heartlessly at the sidewalk when they reach the front door, but she runs over at the sight of them, squeezing Hyejoo’s face in her hands and giving her a peck on the mouth, and if Jiwoo didn’t know any better she’d think Sooyoung was about to do the same to her before she simply gives Jiwoo’s shoulder a pat and says she’ll be home in the evening.

Jiwoo watches Sooyoung’s ass in her yoga pants as she power walks into formation with the other moms and sighs. And sighs. And keeps sighing until Hyejoo tugs on her hair with a disgruntled, “Ji_woo_.”

“That’s _unnie_ to you,” Jiwoo says, allowing Hyejoo to slide down her body until her feet hit the ground before she shuts the door behind them. 

“I’m older than you,” Hyejoo shouts, as she runs down the hallway, sliding on the Monster High socks Jiwoo had gotten her for her 5th birthday (unfortunately at the time Jiwoo didn’t realise that children don’t value the gift of socks like adults do and had to deal with a temper tantrum that made _her_ cry, but now Hyejoo won’t take them off long enough to be washed. And Jiwoo has learnt a lot since then). “I’m _ancient_.”

“Oh, we’re owning that now?” Jiwoo teases, chasing after Hyejoo even if she isn’t as good at sock sliding and nearly brains herself on a vase. She joins Hyejoo on the couch, settling in as Hyejoo presses play on the duet between Anneliese and Erika which Jiwoo definitely plans on recreating at the park later. 

(She takes about one million pictures of Hyejoo posing and spinning in the pale yellow dress she forced her into, under the magnolia tree Jiwoo hasn’t seen bloom in years. She sends all one million to Sooyoung, and immediately receives the reply: _Selca? :D_

Jiwoo, though confused, complies, turning so she’s backed by the tree, lips pursed and a cute finger poking her cheek. _chuu~ ♡_, she captions it. 

Sooyoung doesn’t respond until Jiwoo’s already back home, and she’s thankful for that because the reaction she has when she opens the photo of the lower half of Sooyoung’s face, the camera angled down to show her track jacket unzipped, sweat glistening along the edge of her sports bra—well, she’d rather no one ever witness that.)

**from: chuu *3***  
**to: heejina george**  
alright i think sooyoung’s wooing me

**from: heejina george**  
**to: chuu *3***  
BITCH what finally confirmed it for you >:)

**from: chuu *3***  
**to: heejina george**  
attached picture.jpg

**from: heejina george**  
**to: chuu *3***  
OH MY GOD  
OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD  
firstly i’m still scared of her but can she pls f*ck me if she doesn’t f*ck you  
secondly dude i think she’s… seducing you

**from: chuu *3***  
**to: heejina george**  
bold of you to assume she’s gonna be the one doing the f*cking  
and as for your second point  
°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖° (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ (~￣▽￣)~ (❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ*  
actually  
nvm  
i gave it some more thought  
i know she’s bad at technology  
so she probably just meant to send me her face  
yeah  
we already know she doesn’t see me like that  
REMIND ME WHY WERE WE JUMPING TO CONCLUSIONS AGAIN?!  
phew i almost just contemplated sending her back a nude

**from: heejina george**  
**to: chuu *3***  
can you shut up  
and return to the point where you just implied you’re a top

**from: chuu *3***  
**to: heejina george**  
so?

**from: heejina george**  
**to: chuu *3***  
holy shit why didn’t i know this  
of course...  
everything makes sense… NO WONDER YOU HAD SO MANY GIRLS OVER IN COLLEGE…  
omg how have you not gotten into sooyoung’s pants yet

**from: chuu *3***  
**to: heejina george**  
this conversation has established that ppl like to make assumptions about me

**from: heejina george**  
**to: chuu *3***  
screw the assumptions  
JUST GO FOR IT

Which ordinarily, Jiwoo would never hesitate to do. But this is no ordinary situation—what does she even want from Sooyoung? Does she want to fuck her once or a few times and leave it at that? What will that mean for their friendship? Does she—does she want to be in a relationship with her? To commit until death do they part? Will Sooyoung even want that, so soon after her divorce? And Hyejoo—holy shit, Hyejoo—what will she think of Jiwoo being a part of her life like that? As her new mom? Does Jiwoo even have the ability to give Sooyoung everything or will she just run away to Europe at the first sign of trouble? Is she even going anywhere with her life to be able to give Sooyoung _anything?_ Will South Korea beat Madrid at the FIFA World Cup this year? Will Bernie Sanders pass away before he carries out his term? Will Antartica eventually melt to the bottom of the sea? Will a meteor finally take out Earth? These are all important questions that Jiwoo unfortunately has no answers to. But maybe—

Maybe she’s willing to find them. (Except for the meteor thing, she’d like to at least kiss Sooyoung senseless once before humankind gets what’s coming for them.)

One question is answered sooner than Jiwoo expected: 

Jiwoo’s lounging on her bed, legs raised up against the orange wall and her ukelele laying on her chest as she strums her way through her favourite Twice singles—that’s how her mom finds her when she walks into Jiwoo’s bedroom at half past six on a Tuesday morning. It’s not _Jiwoo’s_ fault that she’s gotten used to falling asleep before her parents and waking up at dawn even when she doesn’t have to babysit Hyejoo, and she doesn’t exactly know how to fill a time of day she never even knew was real before this year. 

“Don’t look at me like that, _eomma_,” Jiwoo whines, “I’m bored.”

“You could go for a run,” her mom says, arms crossed and her fluffy slipper slapping against the carpet as she taps her foot. “Or a brisk walk, if your legs have forgotten how to run. Or, I don’t know, you could have _breakfast_.”

“I had breakfast,” Jiwoo says, dropping one of her feet to point at the coffee mug on her bedside table, and smiling sheepishly up at her mother. 

She rolls her eyes, but seems to be vibrating with excitement over something, wringing her hands as she sits on the bed next to Jiwoo. “_Or_ you could come work at my school,” her mom tells her. 

Jiwoo slowly sits up. “What?” 

“The music teacher—you remember Mrs Cox—she’s getting old now and she’s looking for someone to help her out in class,” she explains, “It isn’t much but I talked to her and you’re almost guaranteed the job. She was very enthusiastic about your tutoring experience and your time in Paris.”

“Really? She knows about the band?”

“Well,” her mom mumbles, “Yes. I told her you chose to resign from the Orchestre de Paris and make music independently, yada yada, it was all very admirable and heart-wrenching.”

“_Eomma_.”

“Anyway, if you ask me, she’s definitely on her way out,” her mom deflects, nudging Jiwoo’s stomach with a roguish elbow. “So if you stick at it, the school won’t even hesitate to hire you as our next music teacher.”

“But my degree,” Jiwoo says hesitantly. “I could—I could re-enrol here.”

Her mom beams, patting Jiwoo’s head, “Exactly, darling. You struggled so much last time and that was hard for me and your appa to see, but you’re in a different place now. You’ve matured so much,” she looks briefly at the mug, “Somewhat. I know you can do it.”

Jiwoo chews it over for a minute, while her mother strokes her hair. A part of her has been holding out hope that her band will get back together, that maybe they can try and break into the American market, but just last night she’d clicked on Mark Lee’s Instagram story to see that he’d bought a house in Santa Clarita with his husband. The photo showed Donghyuck in a pair of overalls and a bucket of paint standing in front of their freshly pink picket fence. _Bold choice_, Jiwoo had replied to Mark Lee, as a tear rolled down her cheek, _#RESPECT_ 🏳️🌈💖👶🏻👀 

(Okay, so maybe Jiwoo wants that for herself. Maybe she wants to hang up her electric guitar and wear floral dresses that cover her tattoo sleeve and teach little kids how to play Für Elise on the piano and be called Miss Kim until she’s called Mrs Kim and go home to her beautiful wife and kid(s) in their beautiful home—)

“I’ll do it,” Jiwoo says, “Is there an interview?”

Her mom hums, “Yes, you’ll have to meet with the principal this afternoon. Oh, sweetie, I’m so happy you’re on board. I thought the whole thing out but I wasn’t sure you’d like that, I was so nervous to ask you. I really want you to get this.”

Jiwoo’s face crumples a little, and she makes a sound that can only be accurately transcribed as ‘HEEEEEEEEENGGGGGGG’ as she leans over to envelop her mom in a squeezing hug. “Thank you, eomma,” she pulls back to say. “Wait—I’ll have to figure something out with Sooyoung, I’m meant to look after Hyejoo after school.”

“You do that, Jiwoo-yah,” her mom says. And then she does this strange thing with her eyebrows that torments Jiwoo for the rest of the day, until she’s sitting outside the principal’s office for the first time in years and deciding she needs to get rid of _some_ anxiety, texts her mom with _what if i said after all these years that i wanted to settle down and get married?_

Her mom replies: _Then I’d say I always saw you with a lawyer._

“Yo, thanks for easiest fifty bucks I’ve made in forever,” is Jiwoo’s first impression of Yeojin Im when she shows up at Sooyoung’s house that evening to take over babysitting duties from her. She’s sitting at the kitchen table while Hyejoo watches TV, legs propped up on a stack of Chemistry textbooks that look like they were checked out of the library in 1962, and swiping through Tinder on her phone. “I’m not allowed to get a job until I graduate.” She rubs her chin with one hand, her thumb swiping right on a girl with purple hair. “Though if I actually get into college I probably won’t be allowed one then too.”

“Aren’t you too young to be on Tinder?” Jiwoo asks from where she’s perched herself on the arm of the couch behind Yeojin. Hyejoo is sitting on the ground, barely having acknowledged Jiwoo’s entrance, but she doesn’t complain as Jiwoo cards a hand through her hair absentmindedly, so that means that Jiwoo is still her favourite person (thank fuck, because Jiwoo heard a _lot_ about Yeojin when she first started babysitting Hyejoo). 

Yeojin stretches sideways to show Jiwoo her profile. “See, it automatically made me eighteen, but I wrote ‘actually 17’ in my bio, so it’s chill,” she explains.

Jiwoo raises an eyebrow. “Have you gone out with anyone?” 

Yeojin gives her a doleful look, clearly not expecting this query. “Not yet. But I will!”

“Have you ever been to Miss Penelope’s on Lavender Street? That’s where all the lesbians in this school district hang out, make out, et cetera.” Jiwoo would know, she started the trend of going there after school, and now you can find the café on every Top 10 LGBTQ+ Friendly Spots list for their state. She did that! “You’d have better luck there.” 

“Fifty bucks _and_ free gay advice?” Yeojin gasps, finally putting her phone down and taking her feet off the kitchen table. “Can you date me instead of Sooyoung?”

“I’m not _dating_—” Jiwoo glances down at Hyejoo, “—that person. We’re not dating.”

If it weren’t for the astounded hand Yeojin places on her chest, Jiwoo might’ve thought she was joking around. But no, “Oh, I really thought you were. You’re so old, I thought you were only looking after Hyejoo as her mom’s girlfriend. But hey, I get it, babysitting is a lucrative business.”

Jiwoo blinks.

“And don’t worry,” Yeojin says, with a dreadful wink, “I like older women.”

“Stop hitting on me,” Jiwoo finally finds the strength to respond. 

“Right, you like Sooyoung,” Yeojin says, nodding solemnly. 

“What? No, you’re seventeen.”

“Well, Sooyoung totally likes you. It’s kind of gross actually.”

“We’re not talking about this,” Jiwoo says, through the sheer willpower of knowing that Hyejoo is still in the room and children are like sponges and whatever gave Yeojin the impression that Sooyoung—well—_that_—Hyejoo really doesn’t need to know. Unless Sooyoung said it in front of Hyejoo—no! Willpower, Jiwoo! “When did Sooyoung say she was getting back?”

Yeojin checks her phone, and Jiwoo looks down at Hyejoo to find she’s fallen asleep anyway, head lolling against the couch, a wet section of hair in her mouth from where she’d clearly been getting away with chewing on it. Maybe—no!

“She should be home in a few minutes,” Yeojin tells her as she starts stuffing her textbooks into her backpack. “I gotta scram, I don’t need to be asked questions. You good on your own?”

“Of course,” Jiwoo says, hopping off the couch to start scooping Hyejoo up, hushing her with a soft, “Sleep, little wolf, we’ll get you to bed,” when she starts to groan. 

“Hey, what was your name again?” Yeojin asks, hoisting her bag onto her back as she starts leaving the room. 

“Jiwoo?” She frowns, shifting Hyejoo’s weight a little so she can take her upstairs more easily. 

“Right, my B,” Yeojin laughs, “Expect a Facebook request later!”

“Expect me to decline it!”

The front door clicks open soon after Yeojin leaves. Jiwoo’s on the couch, nursing a glass of warm milk that she is willing to say was Hyejoo’s if it comes to it, but Sooyoung doesn’t comment on it when she walks into the room. She wordlessly drops her bag on the floor and plonks down next to Jiwoo, and then decides that isn’t indulgent enough and slithers down so her head is in Jiwoo’s lap instead. 

“God, am I glad to see you,” Sooyoung murmurs, “I didn’t think you were going to come over.”

“I told you I would,” Jiwoo says quietly. She isn’t quite sure what to do with her hands. She settles for placing one on Sooyoung’s shoulder, the other playing with the ends of her hair, just far enough that she probably won’t feel it if she isn’t concentrating. 

“I know, but—she’s adorable and all but if I had to come home and converse with Yeojin after today I really would’ve jumped in the pool with bricks tied to my ankles,” Sooyoung says, before her eyes dart to the side. “She isn’t still here, is she?”

“Nope, just me,” Jiwoo says. Her fingers migrate higher the more Sooyoung melts into her touch, gently stroking her scalp. “What happened today?”

“Nothing in particular,” Sooyoung tells her, wriggling a little to guide Jiwoo’s hand to a spot behind her ear. “I was in court all day—it was just small things that kept snowballing, you know? Like documents being misplaced, clients running late, having to listen to this separated couple talk about their sex life for a whole hour because it’s still somehow more alive than mine.” Sooyoung closes her eyes and Jiwoo’s hand freezes in her hair. “That’s really all it is. I haven’t gotten laid in almost two years and every little thing is setting me off.”

“Unnie,” Jiwoo breathes.

Sooyoung blinks up at her. “Oh, I’m sorry, Jiwoo,” she says, starting to sit up, “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, we don’t have to talk about this. But you did say you wanted me to vulnerable with you, so I thought it’d be alri—”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Jiwoo interrupts. She sounds forceful enough that Sooyoung’s mouth falls open a fraction, just wide enough that Jiwoo could dip a finger inside if she wanted to (_later_) but she still finds herself gulping dryly as she continues, “We could just do something about it.” Sooyoung stares at her, but Jiwoo can feel the way she squirmed a little at the proposition, a pink flush crawling along the shell of her ear and calling out Jiwoo’s name. “Unnie, I’m saying I can fuck your sexual frustration away.” 

“_Jiwoo_,” Sooyoung gasps.

“Far far away,” Jiwoo carries on, “I _want_ to.” This isn’t how she wanted to do this, when she’d had her pink picket fence moment earlier today, but she can improvise. Especially when Sooyoung’s thighs are squeezing together like that, a twitch more than anything but Jiwoo _knows_. She’s getting wet, all from a few words. 

Honestly, Jiwoo was expecting more of a challenge.

Not a single, broken, “_Please_,” from Sooyoung, before Jiwoo’s surging forward, her palm furtively sliding around the back of Sooyoung’s neck as their lips press together, with a lot less finesse than Jiwoo was intending, but that’s okay—she can cut herself some slack. She’s wanted to do this for over a decade, after all. 

Jiwoo lets herself indulge, for a moment. Sooyoung’s arms are slung around her shoulders, fingernails lightly scraping Jiwoo’s back as she grabs the fabric of her shirt, and she’d somehow gotten a leg hitched over Jiwoo’s thigh while they made out, hips jerking against Jiwoo, helplessly, intuitively—and shit, Jiwoo never thought she’d be _this_ needy. Maybe—maybe that says something about this situation. That Sooyoung needed to let off steam so bad she’d have done it with the first person who offered. 

So Jiwoo stops. If this is how it ends, then she’ll die happy with the image of Sooyoung sitting on her, mouth shiny and red as an apple, practically _begging_ for Jiwoo to touch her. She’ll look that meteor in the eye and think about how much hotter this moment was.

“Unnie, are you sure you still want this?” Jiwoo asks, once she’s pulled back, her thumb rubbing warm circles on Sooyoung’s upper thigh, so she doesn’t feel completely discomforted. “I’m happy to do this with you, but you could find someone else—”

“I want you,” Sooyoung says suddenly. She clears her throat, leaning forward to kiss Jiwoo’s mouth. Her lips linger, unsticking in a way that leaves a regretful warmth buzzing through Jiwoo. “I want it to be you. Do you—do you want me to take control instead? I hoped, but I don’t think I expected you to—”

“Oh, Sooyoung,” Jiwoo says. Sooyoung’s breath hitches at the lack of honorific, doesn’t even bother with narrowing her eyes. Jiwoo lowers her onto the couch with the heel of her hand pressed into Sooyoung’s shoulder. “This is how it was always meant to be.”

(Sooyoung pinches a nipple between her fingertips, wet and bruised from Jiwoo laving over them for a good ten minutes. Her other hand is tangled in Jiwoo’s hair, guiding her down from where she’s busy sucking a mark onto her toned stomach to her pussy again.

“Aw, unnie, do you wanna come again that bad?” Jiwoo drawls around Sooyoung’s swollen clit, using her free palm to spread Sooyoung wider as she fucks into her, fast and rough and unrelenting. 

Sooyoung doesn’t answer, just covers her face with her palms and moans something that could be Jiwoo’s name. Jiwoo pulls her mouth off her and sits up to deepen her angling, fingertips curling inside Sooyoung and a thumb slipping over her clit. It’s dizzying, how much Sooyoung is responding to this in comparison to Jiwoo simply eating her out earlier. She tries not to think too hard about bending Sooyoung over and pulling her back onto the glittery pink cock Jiwoo keeps in a Girl Scout packing box under her bed—_self-preservation_, she used to have that. 

It doesn’t take long for Sooyoung to go completely taut with her orgasm, back arching so far up Jiwoo can see her ribcage beneath her pretty, hickey speckled skin. She keeps thrusting through it, and Sooyoung’s hit with another wave of pleasure and then another until she can’t make a single noise, jaw slack and body shaking against the sofa. 

Jiwoo finally slips out of her, hand creamy and pruned-up with Sooyoung’s slick. Sooyoung has a hand thrown over her eyes as she catches her breath, thighs clasped together until they fall apart again as though letting Jiwoo back in, but then she looks down at Jiwoo incredulously and mumbles, “God, it’s not everyday a friend helps you out like that.”

“Yeah,” Jiwoo exhales, “Not everyday.”)

**from: chuu *3***  
**to: heejina george**  
so  
i think i fucked up!

Jiwoo gets the job at the elementary school the following week (Sooyoung texts her when Jiwoo leaves that night, _OH MY GOSH I’M SO SORRY I DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING ABOUT YOUR INTERVIEW!!! I hope it went well :’( P.S. I miss those cute fingers of yours already_) and she couldn’t be more grateful for the distraction. She and Sooyoung compromise on babysitting hours because Jiwoo doesn’t want to stop seeing Hyejoo: she gets to drive her home after school and spend an hour together before Hyejoo’s new babysitter—an intimidatingly beautiful woman named Jinsol whom Sooyoung hired so she could teach Hyejoo French (though Jinsol later confesses to Jiwoo that she doesn’t actually know French and has been teaching Hyejoo Klingon this whole time. And also, crazily, Jiwoo finds out that she U-hauled with the Jungeun Jiwoo knew in high school)—comes over.

In short, Jiwoo doesn’t see Sooyoung for a while. And that means falling back into old habits: where she used to be nocturnal (lounging in bed all day, eating ramen and fucking around with whatever girl went home with her last night and stuck around, before heading to the bar to play a set or two with her band) she now gets a solid six hours sleep every night and sings for children who scream even more than an entire bar full of drunken Englishmen who ran away to Paris for the weekend. 

Jiwoo gets back on Tinder, immediately has to swipe left on Yeojin, and has a weeklong streak of free dinners and subsequent hookups nearly every school night after she leaves Sooyoung’s house. She gets drunk with Heejin and Hyunjin on Saturdays and even sends Mark Lee a string of keysmash somewhat resembling _LET’S GET THE BAND BACK TOGETHER :3_ in a club bathroom like she’s some lovelorn ex. 

Sooyoung doesn’t stop texting her though. Jiwoo receives a _Good morning, Hyejoo says hi!_ before school every morning, occasionally interspersed with _Wish me luck at court today~_ or a selfie of them having breakfast or _Hyejoo wants to have lunch with you in the music room!_ The latter ends with Jiwoo sharing the fried chicken her mom made her with Hyejoo while Hyejoo tells her about how she’s been possessed by the spirit of her grandmother with the same name because she has unfinished business on Earth.

“And what unfinished business is that?” Jiwoo asks amusedly, wiping her oily fingertips on the underside of her floral dress. 

“She wants my mom to get married again,” Hyejoo says. 

Jiwoo’s throat goes dry, and she reaches for her thermos. “And do you want that, little wolf?”

“Yes,” Hyejoo declares, “I don’t want my mom to be alone.” She frowns at Jiwoo, like she’d suddenly remembered why they were having this conversation. “And you left her alone.”

“Hyejoo,” Jiwoo says quietly, “You know I work here now. I can’t see your mom as often.”

“She shows me her phone and asks me _Hyejoo, do you think Jiwoo sounds angry with me?_ And I always say yes because you don’t use those little faces that I like so much,” Hyejoo rambles, folding her arms across her chest, a drumstick clenched in her little fist. 

“I’m not angry with her,” Jiwoo explains, leaning forward to place her palm on Hyejoo’s arm. She didn’t want her friendship with Sooyoung to be affected like this but she’s only human—she needs time to unscramble her feelings, to remember that Sooyoung isn’t hers, to move on. 

“Then use the little faces, unnie! Send her a heart! Do it today!”

But she hadn’t even slept with Sooyoung last time she ran away from her, and she took years to come back. Jiwoo stares at Hyejoo’s adorable, greasy with chicken scowl. How long can she afford to take now?

Less than a day, or forever, apparently. Her choice.

**from: heejina george**  
**to: chuu *3***  
jiwoo you didn’t fuck up  
but you ARE fucking up now

**from: chuu *3***  
**to: heejina george**  
heejin >:(

**from: heejina george**  
**to: chuu *3***  
don’t look at me like that  
what she said after you just fucked her brains out doesn’t negate the fact she probably definitely likes you  
and it doesn’t give you the right to blow her off when she’s clearly trying to continue things with you!

**from: chuu *3***  
**to: heejina george**  
HEEJIN >:(

**from: heejina george**  
**to: chuu *3***  
WHAT  
ARE YOU JERKING OFF RN????

**from: chuu *3***  
**to: heejina george**  
no  
but i wish i was  
so i don’t have to listen to you being mean to me >:(

**from: heejina george**  
**to: chuu *3***  
get off to this binch:  
YOU NEED TO TELL SOOYOUNG HOW YOU FEEL

Sure, Jiwoo could do that, or she could download another dating app since she seems to have exhausted every possible match in the Women Interested in Women section of Tinder. She didn’t even think it was possible to reach the _end of Tinder_ but they should give her a Guinness World Record or something for getting there. Jiwoo sprawls out on her bed, holding her phone above her as she starts up a profile on OkCupid: _Jiwoo, 27, Music Teacher, Don’t message if you dislike tattoos, Panic at the Disco, doggos or most kinks (open to discussion)_ ( .◜◡◝ )

It’s on her fifth middle-aged mom looking for a fun time while her husband isn’t home, that Jiwoo realises maybe this wasn’t the app for her, and maybe she also has a type given the way she keeps liking all of them anyway. She scrolls for another minute, matches with a woman who immediately messages Jiwoo asking if she’d like to pee on her (_We can crack open a bottle of 2005 Vieux Château Certan to fill you up :)_), and finally decides it’s time to dele—oh. Oh. 

_Sooyoung, 29, Lawyer and Mom, Looking for a tennis partner (no really, I love tennis, and gin & tonics and apple picking and, embarrassingly, head-bashing to the Frozen soundtrack w/ my daughter <3)_

Her picture shows her in front of a Christmas tree at her parents’ house, looking as beautiful as the moon in her sweeping silver dress.

And she has an arm around Jiwoo, who’s beaming at the camera, leaning against Sooyoung’s shoulder and the green velvet of her dress a stark contrast to the silver.

It’s in this moment that Jiwoo realises: she and Sooyoung look fucking _good_ together. And in the moment shortly after: she has to try. She gazes outside her window, the tiny snow globe of the Eiffel Tower sitting on the sill, and beyond it, the flowering crown of the magnolia tree just visible behind the Has’ roof across the street. 

She has to stop running, if it means that she was being chased this whole time. 

Jiwoo goes downstairs to grab a bottle of original soju from the fridge, yells out a goodbye to her parents before barrelling out of the house in her slippers, shooting off a text to Sooyoung as she runs down the street and takes a sharp left to the park. She posts herself at the swing set, and while she _had_ planned on waiting here all night if she had to, she (understandably!) becomes (a little!) bored and takes out her phone, wishing she at least had _one_ game on there as she rereads her chat with Sooyoung over and over again until her eyes have the words _unnie - i want to be your tennis partner, if you’ll have me x_ burnt onto them, and eventually has to guzzle down half the soju just to kill her embarrassment. 

Sooyoung shows up as Jiwoo’s mouth pops off the rim of the bottle. 

“Hi,” she says, giving Jiwoo a small wave. She’s in her work clothes, a simple grey pencil skirt that has bunched up above her knees, her leather tote hanging off her shoulder and heels digging into the rubber wetpour that’d replaced the bark mulch beneath the swings years ago. 

“Hey,” Jiwoo stammers, standing up and immediately wincing as the swing whacks her in the back of her knees. Sooyoung’s mouth quirks. “Um, please, take a seat. Let me take that off you.” She grabs Sooyoung’s tote bag, and her head whips around to look for a spot to set it down. 

“The quality of service here is simply divine. Truly five star,” Sooyoung drawls as she drops down onto the swing. “And _oh_, the view,” she continues, making a sweeping gesture at the magnolia tree above them, and then at Jiwoo where she’s bending over to wipe away the stray petals on Sooyoung’s bag. 

“Are you teasing me?” Jiwoo whines, slapping lightly at Sooyoung’s arm as she makes her way over to the swing next to her. “You deserve more than this,” she says, drooping against the chain, the soju bottle brushing back and forth against the ground. “I’m so sorry, unnie. I’ve been so awful to you.”

“Hey, now,” Sooyoung says gently, “You’re about to drop to three stars with that attitude. Were you really upset with me, Jiwoo?”

Jiwoo lifts the bottle to take another swig. The breeze feels nice against her Asian flush, bringing a flurry of magnolia petals with it. 

“You must really be upset with me if you’re taking it out on your liver,” Sooyoung continues, the kind of smile that precedes a laugh tugging at her lips. “You drank this whole time, didn’t you? Even when you were sixteen. I’m an idiot.”

“Nooo,” Jiwoo garbles. She shakes her head, her arm snapping up to cup a cold palm around Sooyoung’s face. “No, no, no. _I_ was the idiot. I’ve never been honest with you.”

Sooyoung peels Jiwoo’s hand off her cheek and presses a kiss on the centre of it, before intertwining their fingers. “I know more than you think I do, Jiwoo. And for everything I don’t know, I want to learn. So, so bad. How could you not realise that?”

“_Unnie_,” Jiwoo cries, the bottle clattering to the floor and bubbling out over the petals, and excuse her, if Sooyoung doesn’t think Jiwoo can see her mourning the drink in her periphery— “I was upset with you, what you said after we slept together. I can’t settle for being your friend who helps you out, because—because—_listen_, you once made me promise that I’d wait for the right person. Do you remember? I broke that promise a million times over, I broke it before I even made it. But not once did I ever doubt who my right person was, even if I wasn’t hers.”__

_ _“You are,” Sooyoung blurts out, “There’s a reason that after all this time, after everything we’ve been through, you and I can’t escape each other. I never realised you were that person for me, Jiwoo Kim, but I fell hopelessly in love with you anyway.”_ _

_ _Jiwoo regrets dropping the soju bottle already, because now would definitely be the perfect time to do that. She opts for squeezing Sooyoun’s hand instead. “Sooyoung Ha, I’ve never been in a serious relationship, but I want that with you, and Hyejoo and all nine other kids. I meant what I said, I’ll be your tennis partner, if you’ll have me, even if I suck at it and I drop a few babies on their heads occasionally.”_ _

_ _“The biggest family in the whole suburb,” Sooyoung laughs, “Let’s do it.” _ _

_ _Jiwoo grins (and okay, squeals a little), wrapping her other hand around the chain of Sooyoung’s swing to pull her in. “And I know we’re a few years off, but I think you owe me that first kiss I was promised. Because I’m past hopeless for you, too.”_ _

_ _Sooyoung raises an eyebrow at Jiwoo. “You know what, I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that you lost your virginity before me, so if you would kindly not use words like _first kiss_, which might I remind you, we’ve already—”_ _

_ _Sooyoung tastes like cucumber and kale, Jiwoo finds, and she’s okay with that being the taste of forever._ _

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you thought! i had so much fun with this and came out shipping chuuves 10x more ^__^
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/nohyuck) / [cc](https://curiouscat.me/millennium) ♡


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